


seeds

by ndnickerson



Series: Nancy Drew - Star Trek AU [3]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Bonding, Discussion of Pregnancy, F/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Masturbation, Past Pregnancy Loss, Pon Farr, Vulcan Mind Melds, past pregnancy, ridiculously advanced future sex toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: It's been seven years since they met, while Ned was in the throes of pon farr.Nancy only thought she understood what the anniversary would mean.
Relationships: Nancy Drew/Ned Nickerson
Series: Nancy Drew - Star Trek AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/65588
Kudos: 8





	seeds

"Want to hit the holodeck?"

Lieutenant Commander Nancy Drew smiled at her investigation partner, Lieutenant George Fayne. "Eh, I don't think so. Gonna call it a night. Be careful, okay?"

George chuckled. "Your loss. See you in the morning."

Taking her time as she returned to her temporary quarters on the ship was its own kind of torture. By the time she was locking the door behind her, her nipples were standing under her uniform, and the join of her thighs was tender and slick.

_Come to me._

Nancy looked down at the wedding ring her husband had placed on her finger nearly seven years ago. Of course it was on her mind. In a few months he would be going through _pon farr_ again, and a part of her very definitely couldn't wait. While he had slowly become more and more comfortable with her, loosening up on some of his tight control, at least this time when he went through his fever, it wouldn't just be a few hours of incredible bliss followed by months of hurt and anger and separation.

Nancy went to her case and pulled out the toy she'd had made specifically for times like this. She placed it on her bedside table, dimming the lights, stripping out of her uniform and tossing it into the recycler. She pulled back the cover on her bed, smirking as she imagined Ned's reaction if she recorded what she was about to do and sent it to him. Whatever disapproval he expressed would be belied by the simmering desire in his eyes.

She caressed her breasts and teased her nipples until she couldn't resist anymore, and opened her legs. Then she reached for the toy, placing it on the bed between her open thighs. It was similar to her husband's cock, in length and girth, but didn't quite match him. While it made for a satisfying orgasm, it didn't lessen her desire for her husband.

She moved to tap the base, then laid back down. "Program one, on my mark," she said, and the toy beeped softly to acknowledge her command.

Months. Months until Ned would be with her that way again. She would see him soon, if his ship was available for her to visit. She desperately missed her husband and her daughter.

Tonight, though, she was remembering that night soon after they had met, when she had frantically masturbated after dreaming of him. She hadn't known, then, how it would feel to have sex with him. She had only known how much she needed him.

Her self-control cracked, and she reached for the toy, teasing her clit with it until she was panting, her other hand still fondling her breasts. "God," she moaned, tilting her head back. Half of having sex with her husband was their meld while their bodies were joined, and masturbation didn't even satisfy her desire for that physical connection. It didn't even touch the intimacy of a telepathic bond. But it was what she had.

Slowly she positioned the toy's tip just at her entrance, then began to work it just inside her, in slow shallow thrusts that gradually went deeper. She was so wet that the toy worked easily in her tight sex, and she pinched her nipple, moaning.

"Mark," she gasped.

The toy released whisper-thin filaments that wrapped around her thighs, and she released it as the program took over. She cupped her breasts, her thumbs rubbing against her nipples, and moaned in pleasure as the dildo began to move by itself, in and out of her sex in slow, smooth thrusts. She was very, very familiar with the program, but it was one of her favorites.

_Come to me._

"Yes," she gasped in reply to the memory, spreading her legs wide, her hips rocking. No matter what position she moved into, the toy would compensate and keep fucking her until she turned it off. Before she had married Ned, she would have killed for something like this; now, she was painfully aware of how disappointing this actually was in comparison to him.

When she felt that she was close, she tapped the base. "Program four, mark," she gasped, flushed and sensitive. She rolled onto her knees, her hips bucking like she was riding her husband, tipped her head back and cried out as the toy fucked her faster and stimulated her clit at the same time. She pinched her nipples and cried out even more loudly, and even as her orgasm crashed over her, she couldn't help missing her husband. With Ned, there were no programs, no commands. He knew what she wanted almost before she did.

Nancy did a slow split, her trembling building into full-body shudders as the toy fucked her through her orgasm and into another. She moaned loudly, tipping forward, her knees bent and thighs open as the toy kept working in her, and buried her face in the pillow as she screamed.

No matter how incredible the toy was, Ned had always been better. He always would be.

"Stop," she whimpered, and collapsed as the toy slid out of her and returned to its usual state. For a few minutes, she would feel sated. But it was never long enough.

As she rolled onto her back, she realized that maybe her unexpected surge of hormones was thanks to being on her cycle again. After she had given birth to Sehra, Ned had all but insisted that both of them be sterilized again. He had been terrified that if Nancy carried another child, the pregnancy would kill her. Given how stressful it had been, Nancy had known his fears weren't unfounded.

Now, though, Sehra was four years old, and Nancy and Ned were ready to have another baby. Nancy had agreed with Ned's recommendation that a Vulcan surrogate carry their child, and so she had been given hormones to stimulate her follicle and egg production. The doctors had united her viable eggs with Ned's sperm, and would implant the embryo with the best chances of survival in the surrogate's womb.

Nancy knew it was dangerous. After her miscarriage of her first pregnancy, she had been terrified that she would miscarry Sehra. But she had enjoyed being pregnant, close to the end when she had been more confident of Sehra's survival, and she couldn't help wishing she could have carried Sehra's brother or sister too.

Sehra stayed with Ned. Nancy's life was too chaotic and dangerous for a child. She had been there for the first year of Sehra's life, nursing her, caring for her, sharing Ned's bed. Ned had known Nancy's concerns—when they were mentally connected, she could hide very little from him—but he was an incredible father. He was Vulcan; he had been trained from a young age in discipline, self-control, suppression of emotion. Sehra was half-human, though, and Ned acknowledged that without urging his daughter to suppress that part of herself. He was calm and supportive, but he also hugged and comforted their daughter when she needed that. Nancy would have lost her mind otherwise. She would never have been able to leave. Leaving had already been hard enough.

Nancy pushed herself up and noticed that a light was pulsing dimly on the panel beside her viewscreen. A message had been received for her, one that was private and for her eyes only.

Even knowing it was a recording, Nancy still took the time to step into the shower for the moment it took, then to wrap a robe around her, before she sat down at the desk.

The computer asked for her security code before she could watch the message. Nancy raised her eyebrows, but provided it anyway. Maybe it was from Starfleet Command, but she didn't think so.

The graphic vanished, to be replaced by her husband's image. His head and shoulders were visible, and she could see a moving starfield behind him.

" _Tal-kam,_ " he said quietly, and Nancy drew a soft, startled breath. He usually began his messages much more formally, but there was something in his eyes...

"Sehra and I are en route to Vulcan. I need you to meet me there, if you are able. As soon as you have received this message, let me know if you can come to see me." His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "The anniversary we were to commemorate later this year has come early."

Nancy's breath caught. Vulcans were so rigid, so ordered and scheduled. Both she and Ned had essentially assumed his _pon farr_ would come exactly seven years after the last. She had arranged to take leave on Vulcan at that time, but now...

Ned was gazing into the viewscreen, and his eyes seemed locked to hers. "I will engage in intense meditation, should the need arise. But I wish to see you, _tal-kam._ "

She smiled. _Beloved._ They had called each other by the name so many times.

He held up his hand in the Vulcan salute, and then the screen faded to black.

_Come to me._

She smiled again. As though she had any other choice.

\--

The house Ned had on Vulcan was partially a peace offering to his parents. It was located within walking distance, even though it wasn't next door. It was also a traditionally designed Vulcan home, which meant it was environmentally friendly and sparsely decorated, and kept cool despite the searing heat provided by the glaring sun overhead.

Before stepping out of the transporter area, Nancy made sure her eyes were sufficiently covered and her outfit would protect her far more delicate skin from burning. Ned could walk around relatively unencumbered, but during her first real trip to Vulcan, when she had been outdoors she had been shocked at how easily she became tired and dehydrated. She carried the metal case that accompanied her everywhere, but she'd had the presence of mind to attach a small anti-grav device to compensate for the stronger gravitational pull of the planet.

When the public transport dropped her off a few feet from her in-laws' house, Nancy took a deep breath. Sehra really had become a bridge between Ned and his parents, and Sehra would be staying with them, at least for tonight. That way she wouldn't be around during what would undoubtedly be an intense few hours between her parents.

But Nancy could clearly remember how Ned's heart had been broken by his parents' rejection, and she couldn't forget that or the role she herself had played in it. Of course she'd had no idea when Ned had proposed to her what it could mean, at least in that sense, but she still felt partially responsible. If she hadn't broken the quarantine and made contact with Ned, he wouldn't have become so fixated on her. Their marriage almost certainly would never have taken place.

And they wouldn't have Sehra.

As conflicted as she was, Nancy wouldn't have given up their daughter or their marriage for anything. As Ned often told her, there was no point in regretting the past. Regret couldn't change anything.

Sehra was inside now. Nancy could sense her there, just as she had been able to sense her daughter when she had still been growing in her womb. But stronger than that was her pull to Ned. They had melded so many times, and the intensity of his fever was so strong, that even from here, even without having touched him recently, she could feel him. And she needed him, because he needed her.

"Mama!" Sehra ran toward Nancy as soon as the front door was open and they could see each other. Nancy smiled and put her case down, scooping her daughter up into her arms and closing her eyes as they hugged each other.

"Hey sweetheart," Nancy said, kissing her cheek. "I missed you."

"Missed you too," Sehra replied, and smiled as she looked into her mother's face. Sehra looked remarkably like Ned, just as he had predicted she would—but Sehra's sapphire-blue eyes were definitely thanks to Nancy. "Will you and Father come to dinner tonight?"

Sehra was incredibly well-spoken for a four-year-old, but Nancy knew that was mostly because Ned also gave her lessons after her days in the ship's school. She was truly the best of both of them, intelligent and creative, empathetic and logical. Nancy was often amazed by her all over again. That she and Ned could have created something so... so perfect.

"You know that I would love to," she told her daughter. "And we will, but we likely won't be able to tonight." She smiled and brushed a lock of hair from Sehra's cheek. "I love you, sweetheart."

Sehra beamed. "Love you too, Mama."

Nancy smiled at her daughter for a long moment before she sensed they were being watched. She looked up to see Ned's father standing there, his expression impassive. The first few times they had ever left Sehra alone with Ned's parents, Nancy had worried about what might happen to her, without ever really being able to explain it in a way she thought wouldn't hurt Ned. Sehra was sweet and loving, and Nancy was afraid their daughter wouldn't understand her grandparents' stoic behavior, that she would somehow be hurt by it.

But, to Sehra, all the world was new. She had spent time with Carson and Edith, had seen a life far different from the one she and her father had. And she had met Ned's parents, who had a different life too. No one Sehra knew had a life quite like her own. And despite their differences, Ned's parents liked to teach Sehra. Maybe to them Sehra was an undisciplined, passionate child, but to Nancy she was incredibly well-behaved, well-spoken, and wonderful.

"You are here to see him."

Nancy nodded, gazing at her father-in-law. She understood that she didn't fit easily into any category for him: she was an outsider, but she was married to their son. Both of them knew why she had come to Vulcan, but to speak of it to someone who was not Vulcan was unheard of.

"I just wanted to see Sehra before I... went to our house." She gave Sehra another hug and gently lowered her to the floor. "And I have a few presents. I know you've been learning about botany..."

She gave her daughter a packet of Muktok plant seeds, and once she explained what they were, Sehra's face lit up. "Like you had in the hospital when you were going to have me," she said happily.

Nancy nodded, smiling back at her. "Maybe your grandfather can help you look up how to care for them."

Bess had recommended a fish similar to the ones Nancy and Ned had encountered with them at Luxo Falls, and while Ned's father accepted the gift with his usual impassive expression, she hoped they would at least be intrigued by it. Ned had seemed to be at the time, anyway.

Then she picked up Sehra again. "I love you, sweetheart," she said, aware that Ned's father was observing them, aware that he would likely disapprove... but it was almost for that very reason that she felt she had to. "I'll see you again as soon as I can, all right? Maybe tomorrow we can have breakfast."

Ned's father took a step forward. "It may be later," he said quietly. "Sehra, we can consult with the computer about your new seeds."

Sehra glanced between the two of them, apparently picking up on some thought or emotion from her grandfather that Nancy couldn't. She patted her mother's cheek, and Nancy put her down again.

For her part, Nancy was only troubled for a second. Ned's proximity was distracting, and she did want to go to him. She didn't quite understand her father-in-law's comment, though. She could very clearly remember when she and Ned had been together during his last _pon farr_. They would be together tonight, and maybe even have sex again once he was recovered, but he would be fine again almost immediately.

She was looking forward to it, although she was sure it would be over all too soon. And maybe that was why, she reflected, it was once every seven years. If it were more often, she wasn't sure she wouldn't be entirely addicted to it.

When she saw the figure approaching as she walked toward their house, she knew it was him. He was moving quickly, unencumbered by all the protective garments she'd needed to put on. She could see the flush of fever in his cheeks; she could feel his mind reaching out toward hers.

_Tal-kam._

Nancy closed her eyes briefly, still walking toward him. "Ned," she replied. "I love you."

His pleasure washed over her. He knew that she loved him, but he was vulnerable right now. She very definitely remembered that. "Do you accept me?"

She nodded, reaching for him as soon as they were close enough. "Always," she told him.

He picked her up effortlessly, and she laughed as she slid an arm around his shoulders. She kept it quiet, though. No one else was around, not that she could see, but she knew enough about Vulcan culture to know that what he was doing right now would be considered incredibly inappropriate and vulgar.

Ned's eyelids drooped, in a way she had never seen before, as he carried her toward their house. His nostrils flared. "You are fertile," he murmured.

Nancy felt a soft jolt between her thighs, of both arousal and anxiety. Ned had gone through the sterilization procedure again, to make sure he actually wouldn't be fertile anymore, after providing the sperm to create their embryos. But the _pon farr_ was a biological imperative, to procreate. Nancy knew from their first experience with it that being sterile wouldn't prevent him from going through this.

But she very likely was fertile again. It was the right point in her cycle. And there was always the smallest, slightest risk that the sterilization wasn't entirely effective.

"Is that all right?"

They were close to their house, but she was still shocked when he nuzzled against her. "Yes," he murmured. "Nancy."

As soon as they were inside, Nancy dropped her case to the floor and brought her hands up to cup his face, meeting him halfway as he leaned down to kiss her. She smiled against his lips, remembering that his first kiss had been with her, that he had been bewildered by it. Now he kissed her expertly, his tongue sliding into her mouth as they clung to each other.

"I need you," he murmured, so low it was almost a growl, against her lips. "Now, my wife."

She nodded, nuzzling against his cheek. "I'm yours. I always will be."

The common areas of their house were decorated in the traditional stark Vulcan style, but their bedroom was theirs. He had picked out a coverlet made of a smooth, silky material, and images of Nancy's family were displayed on the dresser, along with a few of Bess and George. Nancy had eyes for nothing and no one outside her husband, though, and when he laid her on the bed, moving on top of her immediately, she ran her fingers through his hair and gazed up at his face.

He drew a long breath, reaching up to stroke her cheek too. His dark eyes were intent on her face, and when he touched one of her _katra_ points, she shivered slightly. At the slight question in his eyes, she nodded, and then he placed his hand against her face.

"My mind to your mind," he murmured, and she could feel him against her, between her legs, fully aroused. "My thoughts to your thoughts."

His fever had touched her even with so much distance between them. Now... now, Nancy closed her eyes, letting the sensation of the meld overwhelm her. The first time, when she had been with Ned during his _pon farr_ , it had all been new; she hadn't known what to expect. The touch of his mind had grown familiar to her, but that had taken time. She had no idea how many times he had melded with her during their marriage; she hadn't kept count. Now...

She was fertile. His need and desire were almost unfathomable, even more than they had been that first time.

She blinked lazily up at him as he moved back, drawing her to her feet, stripping her clothes away with efficient movements despite the slight trembling in his fingertips. She helped, shivering with pleasure when the cool air of their home touched her bare skin. Ned's robe fell to the floor and Nancy sat down on the bed, then leaned back, watching him as he slipped out of his shorts. His burning gaze never left her.

"Come to me," she whispered, warmed by the heat in his gaze. "Please. I need you so much."

But he left the room, and Nancy let out a groan of frustration, bringing her knees up. Her sex was already warm and slick in anticipation, and she fought the urge to touch herself. She wanted Ned's hands on her, all over her. She wanted him inside her, and let her wordless longing slip into their bond to call him back to her.

He returned with a goblet she recognized, and her heart skipped a beat. They had shared the spiced traditional wine during their wedding ceremony, and commemorated that when they had started trying to conceive. The taste of it brought back bittersweet memories for her. She had lost their first child, and trying to conceive Sehra after that had made that second pregnancy almost surreal. Until she had felt Sehra quicken in her womb, and sometimes even after, she hadn't been able to believe it was possible or true. She had been both afraid to love the baby growing inside her, and unable to stop herself.

And while she and Ned had agreed it would be safer to use a surrogate, while Nancy had been reassured that she and Ned would spend time with the surrogate to help them bond with the child before delivery, she still felt—hurt. She wished her body were stronger, that she was up to this task. That it wouldn't have likely meant more permanent damage and a significant risk to her own life.

And the way he'd looked at her just now, the way he'd known... she wondered what Vulcan society said about children conceived during a parent's _pon farr._ She wondered again what Ned's father hadn't quite said.

But it didn't matter, because Ned was near her again.

Ned took a sip and then extended the goblet to her. She pushed herself up, taking a small sip, but the scent of it, the sensation... she held it out to her husband again, peering at him through her lashes, and slowly reclined again as he put it down. The taste was more intense. The version he had just given her wasn't replicated; it was real.

He returned to her, moving his knees between her open thighs, stroking his hands down from her knees to her hips as he moved over her. He drew a deep breath, and through the bond, she could feel him savoring the very scent of her, her arousal, her very fecundity.

It should be scaring him, but it was driving him into a frenzy.

"Mine," he said again, this time almost as a snarl.

Her heart beat again, hard. Bess had equated this fever with intoxication, and she had only been with him once in this circumstance. And she hadn't been ovulating, then. _Yours_ , she almost replied, until she sensed the answer he needed.

"Mine," she replied, letting her openly appreciative gaze travel over him.

_Every three hours, for the next twelve._

Her eyes widened. Her heart had risen to her throat and was pulsing hard there. She knew it only because he did, and twelve _hours_ of his _pon farr_...

She had thought their _wedding night_ was intense.

His thoughts and especially his spoken words were in Vulcan, but that didn't matter in the meld. She knew the shape of them, the meaning behind them, and...

_Relax._

He was her husband. Nancy knew his previous wife hadn't been interested in a deep, meaningful relationship, or in anything beyond mutually beneficial copulation, as rarely as possible. Now, seven years in, Nancy and Ned had discovered an incredible sexual compatibility, mostly because he had fully opened up to her. Whenever they could spend time together, they had sex as many times as she could playfully encourage him to. His surface reluctance was just that; when they were alone, he had control over himself, but it was control he needed to exercise, thanks to the depths of his attraction to her.

She didn't need to relax.

Or, maybe, she did. She had thought this wouldn't be surprising, but now... she didn't know what was going to happen. And because Ned knew it was possible for him to physically hurt her if he lost control during sex...

_Relax._

And then she felt it, like a soft heartbeat, chanted over and over, in the background of their meld. _Human_. He was reminding himself. He wouldn't forget.

Gods, please let him not forget.

She took a slow, deep breath, then closed her eyes, her fingertips drifting up from his elbow to clasp his biceps. His fever was insistent, sweeping through her, burning all it touched.

_Mine. My Ned._

His lips brushed hers, and then his tongue was tracing the seam, and she allowed him in eagerly. While this wouldn't have been so unusual even last month, given everything else, she was glad for this sign of his personality and his awareness of her preferences. On their wedding night, he had wanted to please her, but he had also luxuriated in her and the wonder of joining.

And it was wonder. Every time, she felt such love for him.

She slid her fingers into his hair, wrapping herself around him, shivering once as his erection nestled against the slit of her sex, the plush tenderness of her slick lips. She could feel him working against her, in some quiet, subtle way, like tentative fingertips in the darkness.

Then her spine...

She fell apart.

There was nothing outside the two of them, and then she was boneless, entirely passive.

_Ned. I'll give you this, but... never again._

He bit the side of her neck.

The shock jolted her eyes open, but somehow only her sex clenched; the rest of her didn't tighten, protecting her against the assault. It was like being drugged, but that made sense. He was in control right now, in control of _everything_. Her thoughts weren't even entirely her own anymore.

Then, his teeth still pressing into her neck, he hooked his hands behind her knees and bent her legs to spread them wide. It wasn't that she allowed it; it was that she had no other thought, could conceive of nothing more important than this, than feeling her husband—

She moaned loudly, tears prickling in her eyes as he worked the tip of his cock between the slick lips of her sex, fitting himself just inside her. It was only once he had thrust his entire erection inside her that he released the bite, and she moaned again in relief, and at the sensation of being complete again. She wanted him, and _this_ , so much. She wanted his sperm in her womb again, wanted to feel life they had created together quicken in her again. With his every thrust, her body welcomed him.

That breath of fear—it was gone before she could even name it.

He needed this, and she did too. His only dominance was through her passivity, her complete surrender, and when his thumb brushed her clit, a shudder of liquid pleasure trembled through her even as she remained entirely prone under him. All she needed to do was _feel_. It was all she _could_ do.

He was moving in and out of her steadily, his hips at the same angle, and her brow furrowed slightly as she summoned the strength to open her legs just a little wider, to shift the angle of her hips just a little. The tiny adjustment and the feel of his rough thumb working over her clit brought her to a shuddering, sobbing orgasm, and Ned's fever howled in him in response. She was completely at his mercy, and a part of her waited for him to drive into her in a frenzy of hard, brutal thrusts, seeking something her more fragile body couldn't give him.

Instead, trembling with his fever, he lowered himself to her and his lips found hers, and the rhythm of his hips as they ground against hers became slow, sensual, unbearably erotic. His strokes against her clit, oh, oh God. She was so wet, so tender and relaxed that his incredible cock moved easily inside her.

She cried out in an almost keening wail against his kiss, her face contorting with the intensity of her pleasure as she broke again, and he followed, increasing the speed of his thrusts. She found herself bucking instinctually against him, reduced to pure sensation and response, and they both groaned when he finally let himself release inside her.

She moaned his name, his body nestled against hers, and felt him slowly release the bond. Their connection returned to the shallow surface thoughts that his touch enabled, but she was still in his thrall. His fever hadn't passed, and she was caught there too.

" _Tal-kam._ " He nuzzled against her, so open and affectionate and warm, and she smiled and embraced him, her heart soaring with pure, sweet joy. "My beloved."

"My beloved," she murmured, stroking her fingertips against the back of his neck. When he gave all of himself, when nothing held him back, the intensity of his need for her was devastating. She met it with her own need, her own joy.

They drifted off to sleep, spent, and there was nothing outside them and this.

\--

Four times in twelve hours was, it turned out, a minimum. She lost count of the number of times they had sex, the number of orgasms he gave her.

The second time, when she woke up he was already caressing her and kissing her, and she surrendered to it willingly. Once she was slow and sweet and welcoming, he rolled over and she giggled in delight at coming astride him. Through the meld she felt his wordless need for her to mark him the way he had marked her, and she bit the side of his neck as she rode him.

She felt younger, flush with need and love, obsessed and adored. As much as she wanted and needed him, Ned felt the same.

She rode him until she was trembling, sobbing, her thrusts erratic in the intoxication of her bliss, and then he rolled her onto her back and took control again, and she wrapped herself around him with a cry of delight. He didn't do what he had done that first time; he didn't make her relax into complete passivity again, and she took advantage of that control, her hips surging under his.

She choked, head tipped back, as she came, straining under him, gloriously tender, his cock sheathed between her thighs. He gasped when he came, a shocking loss of his own control to even acknowledge it, and she grinned, tipping her knees back to angle her hips, letting gravity draw his seed deep into her womb.

He worshiped her, during that time. They shared several sips of the spiced wine, and when he gazed at her, she saw such tenderness and love in his eyes that her heart seemed to bloom. She had never realized how much she needed it. He felt—human, like her, but his emotions were so much more intense. Overwhelming. She succumbed to the wave and the pull of it, meeting his need with her own. She shared all she felt with him eagerly, knowing how he returned it.

They would create another baby together. She would feel his child grow in her again. Nothing would please him, or her, more.

In the morning, she was exhausted, fully sated, and almost embarrassingly addicted to him. Just a single tug of arousal was enough to draw him to her again, eager and willing to meet that need, and after they ate breakfast in bed—she remembered only the flesh of a delicate, sweet fruit, something Ned had kept and prepared especially for her—they were on their sides, wrapped around each other, desperately rutting together until he rolled her onto her back to spend himself inside her, the rough tip of his thumb rapidly stimulating her clit.

She moaned when he relaxed onto her, wrapping herself around his warmth, relaxing into the cocoon of their embrace and sliding gently into sleep.

\--

His wife was asleep in his arms when Ned blinked.

The fever had passed. It was over.

His relief was more than profound.

He eased gently away from her, but she stirred a little anyway. By then he was walking toward their kitchen, directly toward the med unit. He returned to her a moment later, still unselfconsciously naked, a hypospray in his hand.

If he had been human, his hands would have been trembling.

She was sitting up in bed, raking her tumble of reddish-gold hair out of her face, naked in the pool of filtered sunlight. In the height of his fever he had done all he could to impregnate her; the ungovernable instinct neither knew nor care that his fertility had been nullified by his recent treatment.

Cases of failure, of pregnancy still occurring after the treatment, were exceedingly rare, but they still happened. And he had left millions upon millions of sperm in her womb.

She glanced from the hypospray to his face, and Ned saw the gleaming curve of tears gathering above her lower lashes. She sipped in a breath, straightened her spine, and held her hand out for the device.

It was all he had wanted, even a few minutes ago. And they would have another child; he was confident. He was equally certain that if his wife carried that child, she wouldn't survive her pregnancy.

A tear spilled down Nancy's cheek as she pressed the hypospray to the front of her hip and dispensed the medication. She took another deep breath as she returned it to him, almost impatiently dashing the tears away.

He sat down at the edge of the bed.

Seven years ago, he had chosen her—and she had chosen him. Seven years ago, he had never imagined becoming this person. A part of him, growing steadily smaller but still there, was disappointed in himself for allowing the change. He dismissed it easily.

" _Tal-kam_ ," he whispered, his tone so gentle, and she crawled toward him, wrapping herself around him. He embraced her hard, and they clung to each other. He felt her every breath, in and out, in and out.

Every one was another gone, another moment she would never have again, that they would never share again. He'd encountered the term _memento mori_ on Earth, and was reminded of it yet again.

"It wouldn't have worked anyway," she murmured, trying to convince herself, and sniffled.

Immediately he wanted to quote the statistics, and stifled the impulse. The only acceptable risk was none, as irrational as that was. "Likely not," he agreed quietly. "I will not risk your health."

"I know." She sniffled again, gave him a quick squeeze, then moved back to look into his eyes. "So Vulcan wombs are inhospitable, are they."

"Notoriously. In comparison, Terran wombs are..."

"Ridiculously fecund," she filled in. "Which is not at all true. Four times in twelve hours... and, asking me to relax?"

He would have blushed. "It is an old belief," he replied. "That if the female partner relaxes, conception will be more likely."

"Founded on any research?"

He considered, as she stood and took his hand, guiding him toward the shower. "I believe you're aware that the _pon farr_ is considered deeply personal," he replied. "This..."

"Infinitely more so," she said. " _Ten_ times, though."

He tipped his head slightly. Remembering his acts was like remembering a dream. "Biological drive," he said quietly.

She pulled him into the shower stall. "I wanted it too," she said, gazing up into his eyes, her arms up over his shoulders. "I wanted it so much. I'm sorry."

Her thoughts were completely unshielded from him. "The child our surrogate carries will know us," he assured her. "I will be able to connect with the child, once it has developed enough, and facilitate a connection with you. We can find a way to be together after the birth. All of us." He touched his forehead to hers. "I love you, Nancy," he whispered.

Her eyes filled with tears again. "I love you," she replied.

Twenty minutes later, fully dressed, the marks they had left on each other's necks rapidly healed, they were walking to his parents' house. As soon as they left their own home, their clasped hands became just the touch of two fingers. The intoxication of the fever had entirely passed. He wanted their daughter with them.

Sehra ran toward them as soon as she spotted them, a wide grin on her face. She didn't call out; she knew better, especially here. Ned knew his parents wouldn't condone such an emotional display, but he also didn't care.

He crouched and took their daughter in his arms. She made a quiet, happy sound that made Ned's heart warm. Sehra buried her face against her father's neck, and he felt her love for him. He lowered his shields and let her feel his love for her, and could sense her answering joy like a warm glow in her.

Nancy crouched down too, and picked Sehra up once Ned released her. She embraced their daughter, holding her tight, and Sehra pressed her cheek against Nancy's, closing her eyes. Sehra could always read her mother. For Nancy, there was no voluntary relaxing, not for Sehra.

Another baby. His entire heart belonged to his wife and his child. He would request a reassignment soon, so they could all be together, as much as possible.

As he stood, he met his parents' eyes. They had known; through the bond, he had realized what Nancy hadn't. They had known what this _pon farr_ would likely mean.

Seven years ago, all of this had been unimaginable. He had never been so aware of how precarious this was, how fragile, but he had also never felt such joy.

The expression on Ned's mother's face was as close to worried as it could be. Ned answered it with the Vulcan version of a polite, reassuring smile: a placid expression, serene-eyed, clear-browed. Nancy's life wouldn't be put at risk, not this way. A hundred, a thousand, other ways, but not this way.

His father inclined his head. "We invite you to share the midday meal."

The corners of Ned's lips quirked up in the faintest smile, and he picked Sehra up, feeling her wrap her arms securely over his shoulders, eager to show her father the seeds she and her grandparents had planted, as all five of them went inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving feedback!


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